


Good Riddance

by Sadrobots



Series: I've Got This Machine [4]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Fnaf novels, Gen, abuse tw, generally this is just William being The Actual Worst, misogyny tw, suicide TW, the silver eyes, violence against children tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 15:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13057077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadrobots/pseuds/Sadrobots
Summary: William's reaction to Henry's death.





	Good Riddance

          “Could you tell me?” My wife speaks into the phone, curling the cord around her long, thin fingers. “He hates bad news. He really, really hates it.”  
She all but jumps when she realizes I’m in the room.  
          “What’s the matter, darling?”  
          “It’s for you.” She hands me the phone. “I’m sorry, Will.” She touches my shoulder and leaves. It’s the sheriff. Henry is dead. Suicide.

People say their wives and children are the most important people in their lives. I never really bought that. Children take more than they give and the moment they might start to become useful, they just abandon you. The world is in denial about how little sense they make. Wives are easier to appreciate, they actually have a wide variety of uses. They can take care of the household, provide emotional support, sex, etcetera. Still, I don’t think I love mine. She’s like a phone, or a car, or a washing machine. Something useful you’re expected to have, that doesn’t really make you feel strongly unless it malfunctions. If I lost her **,** I could always get a new one, while Henry can’t just be replaced. His vision was unique, even if we shared it. He was a part of me. Losing him is like losing an arm, or a leg, or my heart.

I did see that he was unraveling. He always looked a little scruffy, but under that appearance, there used to be a certain kind of light. When I came over and he saw me for the first time in a week, I could still see a spark in his eyes, but it was only a split second before it went out again. Over the last few years, his laugh kept sounding more and more like he was really just in pain. Everyone in town suspected him of the murders, because he didn’t know how to play innocent. He had an angry outburst in the supermarket, when someone accused him of murdering his son. Instead of recognizing that person had it coming, he became paranoid about losing his self-control and becoming like his parents. I could have taken that opportunity to make him think he was guilty, but I didn’t. I surprised even myself with how much sadness and anger I simply put up with, how much kindness and patience I had to give. I was truly a great friend to him. So how could he leave me?

I hear the front door shut and realize my wife slipped out of the house. I assume she took the kids with her. She should’ve stayed here to support me, but she must’ve thought I was going to lose my temper. I look down at the floor and see the phone in pieces. Oh.

The last time I saw Henry was a few days ago. It was almost a normal night. He didn’t answer the door, so I found him in his workshop, making something I hadn’t commissioned. He asked me questions about my kids, I recited the answers like I cared. He smiled at some anecdote about Michael, something I only remembered so that I could tell him. Then we watched a movie, like we always did. There were a few moments where he seemed to be about to say something, moments where he moved away from me and started a sentence that he couldn’t finish. This wasn’t really new, though. Nothing was truly out of the ordinary, until I got up to leave. Usually, I let myself out, but this night he walked me to the door. When we were in the hallway together, I remembered the time he accused me of killing his child and I knew he did too. It was a painful memory I didn’t like to revisit, so I was relieved when I crossed the threshold.  
          “See you, Henry.” I grinned. He was quiet and just looked at me, his eyes were empty and his mouth was a straight line, different from the polite not-quite-smile I was used to. It was starting to piss me off. If you want to say something, either say it, or bury it deep so no one else can see. Then he took my face in his hands and kissed me.  
          “Goodbye, William.”  
He shut the door and I heard the lock click. End of conversation. For a second I was confused, then I just smirked, put my hands in my pockets and walked away. I’ve been to boarding school, I know guys get queer when they’re isolated, so I supposed it was only a matter of time. I thought that this was just going to make it easier to keep him around, not that he was about to abandon me forever. It doesn’t make any sense.

There is only one place where I can go when I feel this empty. When I get there, my least favourite employee is having pizza in the restaurant. He waves awkwardly.  
          “What are you doing here?” I hiss. His mouth is full, so he makes me wait for my answer.  
          “Dinner.” He smiles. I turn away, but he clears his throat. “Um, is something wrong? I got here and the place felt… weird.”  
          “What do you mean?” I squint. There is something in this place. I thought I was the only one that could truly see it, but this night guard is a strange one. He will overlook the most obvious things, like how much I hate him, but at the same time he tends to notice the tiniest little details that nobody else does.  
          “I don’t know,” he says uselessly. “Like something’s gone.” We just look at each other for a moment before I say it.  
          “Henry is dead.”  
          “Oh.” He tears up immediately, like a child that hasn’t learned to behave.  
          “You met him once,” I hiss, “Stop it.”  
          “He just seemed really nice and cool and I admired him a lot,” he sobs, not even trying to control himself.  
          “You didn’t know him,” I raise my voice, “STOP IT.”  
          “S… sorry.” He blinks fast and wipes his face with his sleeve. A family of four is sitting in the corner, staring. He is so lucky that people saw this, or I’d kill him. Oh God I wish I could kill him. There’s a knife right in front of me and it would be so easy. His blood running off the plastic table cover. No. Stop. I just have to do some quick damage control and get to the safe room.  
          “There, there, it’s okay.” I pat his shoulder, suppressing the urge to look at the family that’s definitely watching us. “Now, I just came by to get some things. You finish your dinner and come back when it’s your shift, okay?”  
He nods. When I go through the employee entrance, I glance through the little window and see he’s still too sad to finish his dinner. Pathetic. I walk to the end of the hall and turn the corner. It looks like a dead end, but if you have the key, there’s a whole other world back there. My world.

I close the door and walk down the stairs, into the basement everyone forgot. They’re still here. My children, my real family, the only people I can truly trust. They get a little more disgusting every day, but I love them anyhow. I loved Henry too. I thought he understood. I saw his doubts, but I believed that deep down, he knew he belonged to me. It was taking longer than I’d have guessed, but one day, he’d get over losing his son. I was going to tell him the truth and we were going to laugh about it. Henry wasn’t supposed to die.  
They say that when someone kills themselves, their survivors are left with endless thoughts about what they could’ve done different. I always thought that was stupid, but here I am. I should have brought him here. I should have done it myself. Choked the life out of his body with my own two hands, so that I could hold on to him, forever. Why would he do it to himself, alone? Did he do it just to hurt me? Was it… my fault?

For a moment, my head goes blank. The room is spinning. I don’t feel like myself. I don’t know who or what I am. Just a bunch of organs in the shape of a person, with nothing holding them together. I hug my body, kneel down and press my head against the floor. Cold concrete against… something, I don’t know what I’m made of. I’m surrounded by my children, their dead eyes are looking at me with hatred. I can’t see them, but I know. Everyone hates me. Henry hates me. I ask the question again. William, was it your fault?

The room stops moving. The dead go back to sleep. Something starts inside my stomach and comes out of my mouth as laughter.

Of course not. He did this to himself. He did this to me.

He was a selfish monster.

Good riddance.


End file.
